


The Hunt for Lucius Malfoy

by Flakingnapstich



Series: Professor Constantine of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Mention of John Constantine, Mention of Rita Skeeter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 11:36:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5204375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flakingnapstich/pseuds/Flakingnapstich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Battle of Hogwarts, Lucius Malfoy tried to murder his wife for betraying the Dark lord. He's been on the run for 18 years. Today, Harry Potter has received evidence of Malfoy's hiding place. It's a place Harry has only been once before, a place you must enter with a blood sacrifice and which is guarded by an army of the dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hunt for Lucius Malfoy

The Hunt for Lucius Malfoy

Harry and Ginny Potter sat in the kitchen of the house Harry had inherited from his God-Uncle Sirius Black. They were reading the mail and sipping tea, relishing the silence that had overtaken their home since the children left for Hogwarts that morning.

“Daily Prophet’s got something interesting this morning,” Ginny said.

“Hmm?” Harry said, staring at a letter.

“Rita Skeeter’s finally revealed her mystery collaborator on the new biography of Voldemot she’s writing.”

Harry was distracted from the letter for a moment, a playful impulse overtaking him. “Do tell. Who is it?”

“You know damn well who it is,” Ginny said with mock irritation. “I want to know WHY she’s done it. Why would Hermione Weasley of all people collaborate with Reeta Skeeter on a book?”

Harry waited for his wife to take a sip of her tea before replying. “Hermione demanded final editorial control.”

Ginny spat out her tea. “And Skeeter agreed?”

“It was that or write the book without cooperation from Ron, Neville, Hermione or me.”

“Cleverest Witch of the Age,” Ginny muttered. The phrase had become something of a public nickname for Hermione in the wizarding world. Even the daily prophet used it regularly. 

Harry looked back at the letter. The playful mood passed as he contemplated the handwriting before him.

Ginny persisted. “The Remus Lupin Fund made the news.” This got Harry’s full attention. “They met their fundraising goal. There’s going to be a full-time potion master at Hogwarts so all three werewolf students have plenty of Wolfsbane potion to continue classes.”

“That’s good news,” Harry said.

“I expect one of your letters is about it. Charities tend to tell their board members and founders about things like this before talking to the press.”

Harry glanced through the unopened mail. There were three letters from the Fund.

“It’s not a bad legacy,” Ginny said. “He has a wonderful son growing up into a grand man, and his name will forever be remembered as-”

“He’s hate having a charity named after him,” Harry said, “He was too modest.”

“He’d love having his son growing up knowing how his father will be remembered by others.”

Harry picked up the letter again.

“What the Hell is in that letter Harry?” Ginny demanded. “You’ve been re-reading it since we got back from the station.”

“It’s from Scorpious.”

“Is his mother making another donation to S.P.E.W.?”

“It’s evidence,” Harry said sadly.

Ginny’s brow furrowed. Having the world’s most famous Auror for a husband meant people often sent him tips and evidence. Sometimes it was a crank. Sometimes they even got a howler from a dark wizard who was trying to taunt Harry. Ginny reflected on the fact that no wizard who’d sent Harry Potter a howler at home had remained at liberty for more than 48 hours afterwards. It was a sure-fire way to get moved to the top of the department’s queue.

“If I act on this as it is, I’ll have to arrest Draco.”

“Oh God, what’s he done now?”

“According to his, both he and his son know where Lucius is hiding.”

Ginny gasped. “It’s been 18 years,” she said.

Harry thought back to the trials after the Battle for Hogwarts. Most the Death Eaters were dead, but there were collaborators who needed to be dealt with. All three surviving Malfoys were tried together. Harry was the first witness called. He remembered walking down the stone steps in the underground courtroom and seeing the three of them, chained to their chairs. Draco and Narcissa were reaching out their hands towards each other, bound too tightly to touch.

“For God’s Sake,” Harry had said before being sworn in, “Loosen their chains enough for them to hold hands.”

The judge had complied.

Harry had been sworn in and taken his seat.

“I’m told you have something to say in the DEFENSE of the Malfoy family, is that correct?” the prosecutor had asked.

“Yes I do.”

“Suppose you’re going to say they’re too stupid to be a threat?” A chuckle ran through the assembled witches and wizards. “Their track record in serving He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is proof they were double agents for the Order of the Phoenix all along?” Another chuckle.

Harry spoke. “Narcissa has has been mocked heavily for not being able to tell if I was dead or alive in the Forbidden Forest. The mockery was based upon misinformation. I let that misinformation spread, not to be malicious, but because the Death Eaters needed to be accounted for to make sure she survived when the truth was told.”

The courtroom fell silent. Harry continued. “I’m famous in part for having survived the killing curse twice. Once through the sacrifice of my Mother, and once through the death of the fragment of his soul Tom Riddle, AKA ‘Lord Voldemort’ had accidentally implanted in me while trying to make a Horcrux.” Harry paused for a moment. The air was full of gasps, a couple wizards dry-heaved and there was the sound of a *thud* as someone fainted. Harry felt the reactions were a bit melodramatic, but it was the first time he’d discussed HOW he’d survived the killing curse in the Forbidden Forest. “After the second time I was hit with the killing curse, I lay on the floor of the Forbidden Forest and Tim Riddle sent Narcissa Malfoy to check on me, to make sure I was dead. Most people know she then told Riddle I was dead, a claim for which she has been heavily ridiculed.”

The prosecutor interrupted. “Well, the family has come out of this with a bit of a reputation for incompetence.”

“The family idiot is the dead one,” Harry said, referring to Bellatrix. “Narcissa Malfoy deliberately lied to Lord Voldemort.”

Murmurs ran through the crowd. Small arguments could be heard erupting. Harry heard a few voices question his sanity.

The prosecutor laughed, somewhat uncomfortable now, and said, “You mean to tell me, Narcissa Malfoy chose the moment of the Death Eater’s greatest triumph, the cumulation of You-Know-Who’s return to power, to DEFY the Dark Lord she’s followed since before you were born?”

“A few words passed between us, as I lie on the ground, feigning death.”

“I’d love to hear what they were.”

“She asked me if her son Draco was still alive. I told her the truth, that he was. That’s when she turned to Riddle and told him I was dead.”

Silence.

“You have to understand, Riddle had been trying to get Draco killed as collateral damage for close to two years, as a way to punish Lucius for his many failures. I didn't tell Narcissa that hours before I’d saved Draco’s life even while he and his two best friends were trying to kill Ron Weasley and I. That wasn’t important. What mattered to her was that he was still alive. If anyone can understand a Mother making a sacrifice for her son, it’s me.”

“Why didn’t you say anything about this before?”

“Because if there were still Death Eaters on the loose, the news that her loyalty to her son helped defeat Lord Voldemort would have gotten her killed. This is one of the last trials scheduled, and there are no known or suspected death Eaters still at large.”

Harry had gone on to discuss Dumbledore's revelations about the fact that Draco had been charged with murdering him, and talked about how the surviving Malfoys had been little better than prisoners themselves in their own home when he'd been captured and imprisoned in their basement.

It had been enough. It had been enough to free the whole family. That last fact was a bitter pill for Harry to swallow, one more mound of guilt and regret heaped upon him. Two weeks after their release, Lucius had tried to murder his wife for betraying the Dark Lord. He’d blasted half her face off, bragging he was going to give her a slow, painful death.”

“Harry?”

Ginny’s voice brought Harry back from his memories, not unlike being pulled out of the swirling mist of a Pensive.

“Harry?”

Harry looked at his wife. He briefly wondered what Ginny could POSSIBLY do to make him want to kill her. The only thing he could think of was if she tried to harm one of their children, and it was the only way to save the child, the exact opposite of what Narcissa had done.

“I remember people tried to call her ‘Mad Eye Malfoy’ when she got the fake eye,” Harry said.

“Harry,“ Ginny said, worried.

“She said she didn't deserve the nick-name, that it belonged to someone better than her. She turned her pain into a chance to praise the people who died defeating her.”

Harry could feel tears welling up in his eyes. “Whatever she was before, she’s a good person now. She sacrificed everything she believed in for her son. Unless this letter is a vile, cruel lie that son has betrayed her. He’s been sending food to the man who tried to murder her for putting their only child ahead of Tom Riddle.”

It took a while for Harry to compose himself. Once he calmed down he went to the fireplace and grabbed some flue powder. He had some visits to arrange.

The next day Harry Potter walked through the front gates of the Malfoy mansion. He’d been there dozens of times over the last 19 years. Each time he was haunted by the specter of his first visit, bound and being prepared for slaughter. He always felt a bit helpless when he walked through the door, bile and anger rising in his throat, knowing this was where Dobby received the wound that killed him.

As arranged, Draco Malfoy was alone in the front hall. Despite his balding pate, Draco had grown his hair to shoulder length. Harry soothed himself by mentally comparing Draco to a character from a movie he’d seen a couple of years ago, a balding man who was being kicked around by his mad scientist employer. The resemblance really was uncanny, especially since Draco’s attention to his grooming had slacked in the last few years. Resisting the urge to call Draco “Riff Raff,” Harry held out his hand.

Draco looked down at Harry’s outstretched hand, stuck his hands in his pockets and looked up at Harry. “What do you want?” he asked. “Another raid for dark magic artifacts? The Ministry Must be running out of things to do if their pet propaganda prop is reduced to prying up floorboards looking for hidden compartments.”

Harry smiled. “My own fault I guess. You need dark wizards to keep an auror busy, and when there are so few I haven’t caught…” Harry shrugged in mock modesty.

Draco’s mouth twitched into an involuntary sneer. “I’m a busy man,” he said.

“I know,” Harry said, “This is about one of the things that keeps you busy.”

“Are you going to get on with it or bore me to death?”

Harry took a deep breath and said, “I have evidence that you know where your father is hiding.”

Draco rolled his eyes and turned around, walking away. “Right, and Lovegood has caught a gaggle of hinky-floobers or whatever nonsen-”

“If you don’t cooperate now I’ll have to arrest you.”

Draco turned back to Harry. “I should curse you for that empty threat.”

Harry flipped open his robe, exposing the wand holster on his thigh. “You try, and you’ll be unconscious when I arrest you.”

Draco was near a wall, and he grabbed a chair, turned it around and sat down. He looked up at Harry, who had drawn his wand, and smiled. “My, my, you HAVE gotten twitchy, haven’t you? Do I scare you?”

Harry didn’t lower his wand. “You’ve been in correspondence with your Father since the day he tried to murder your Mother. You’ve sent him a steady supply of food and provisions since he fled justice.”

Draco sat up. What little color there was in his face drained from it.

“You can either corroborate what I just said and give the Ministry your full cooperation, or I can arrest you for harboring a wanted criminal and as an accessory after the fact to the attempted murder of your mother.”

A woman’s voice came from the hallway beyond. “Oh my God.”

Harry and Draco turned towards the sound. Narcissa Malfoy emerged. She wore a flowing blue robe that nearly concealed the damage to her left arm. When she stood still, not two feet from Harry, the outline of her wasted, blasted left arm formed a sharp and disturbing contrast to the healthy right. She’d gotten into the habit of putting her right side forward, so as to minimize the view of her left.

Not for the first time, Harry admired the courage it took to not cover her face. Blasted with a combination of magic and raw violence, the left side of her face looked more like a melting wax figure than a human visage. Her long hair covered some of the damage, but the withered back of the jaw and missing cheek bone were painfully obvious. Then there was the magical eye. The size and shape of a normal eye, the way it seemed to jut out from her head served only to highlight just how much of her skull Lucius had blasted away. The eye swiveled and turned, just like Mad Eye Moody’s had done, but instead of being blue, it was a more muted gray.

“Harry,” she said, “You had better have some DAMN good evidence.”

“I have a letter from a credible source. I visited the source this morning and confirmed that the letter was genuine.”

“Who is this ‘credible source?’” Narcissa demanded, the fear in her voice not completely disguised by her anger.

“Oh, isn’t it obvious?” Draco drawled. “Your grandson wants his inheritance early. If I’m in jail and you have a heart attack from shock, all this,“ Malfoy gestured grandly at the room around him, ”will be his.”

“Draco, how can you say something like that about your own son?”

“It’s nothing to what you’re going to say about me before long.”

Harry thought back to his school days, to a panicked moment when Remus Lupin stood up for him, covered for him after an illicit trip out of the school. Then he thought of the devastating thing that had been said to him afterwards. He decided to use Lupin’s words as a template for what he said next. “Draco,” Harry began. “Your Mother lost everything she believed in for you. She saved your life and kept you out of prison. Gambling your freedom and your relationship with your own son is a poor way to repay her sacrifice.”

Draco sighed dramatically. “Fine, if I tell you where he is, even though you know already, will you LEAVE without me?”

“If you give me enough to tell the Ministry you cooperated, you won’t have to go to jail.”

“Why DID you come down here anyway Mother?” Draco said. “You're normally napping now.”

“Don’t you remember?” she said.

Draco shook his head.

Years ago, “I told you, every day after lunch I would walk in the garden and think of you while you were at school. You promised to think of me as you left lunch for your next class. That way, you’d know I was thinking of you. It was meant to help you feel safe, to feel less homesick.”

“Long time since I’ve been at school,” Malfoy said.

“But Scorpius just started, and I made the same arrangement with him.”

Narcissa turned and left. She was beginning to cry, the sobs clearly audible by the time she disappeared down the hall.

“Congratulations Malfoy,” Harry said. “Your Mother has saved you AGAIN and I think you just did more damage to her psyche than your Father.”

Draco spent the next half hour detailing his correspondence with his father, going so far as to hand over 18 years worth of letters and a map to his location far more detailed than the one Scorpius had included with his letter. 

“The map was drawn by my father.” Draco had said. “Out of curiosity,” he continued, “You didn’t come here alone, did you?”

Harry cocked an eyebrow at Draco. “I don’t take unnecessary chances, even on a nobody like you.” At that moment a soft cough was heard. Harry, without missing a beat said, “And SOMEBODY who cast a light-bender spell but has allergies has run out of lemon drops, hasn’t he?”

“Sorry sir,” came the reply from thin air.

Harry looked down at the map. “Well, this confirms my worst fears. You say he’s been there this entire time? Living on the island in the center of the lake?”

“That’s where he’s been.”

“Did you ever visit him there?”

“Never, he said it was too dangerous. Too well protected. It was one of the Dark Lord’s most important hiding places.”

“I know,” Harry said. “I’ve been there.”

“YOU HAVE NOT!” Draco said, with more emotion than Harry could ever remember him showing before.

Harry, ignoring Draco’s anger, said calmly, “Yeah, Dumbledore and I went there the day he died. If your Father’s still alive he’s living on an island trapped by an army of infiri.”

“What do you mean ‘if?’ Who do you think has been writing all these letters?”

“Send the next care package as usual,“ Harry said dryly. ”I need to consult with some experts to find out if infiri can write letters. If they can, then it’s probably way too late to take your father in alive.”

“He’s been living on an island in an underground lake!”

“A stagnant lake filled with salt water and hundreds of infiri. You said yourself that you’ve never sent him any water, just food and writing supplies. What do you think he’s been drinking for 18 years? Stalactite drippings and salty infiri juice?”

“He has a wand! You can summon water with a wand!”

“It’s ironic,” Harry said.

“What are you on about now scar-head?”

“If he’s really been there this entire time, then he’s put himself in a place far worse than anything he’d have faced if he'd just gone to prison. Azkaban hasn’t had dementors for 19 years.”

Harry looked at the map for a few moments and said, “Too dangerous for his son and grandson to visit, but safe enough to send them a map. Interesting.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Calm your hippogryphs,” Harry replied. “This smells more like a trap than a hiding place.”

“Worried I’m leading you into a trap?” Draco said, a hint of his old schoolboy sneer in his voice.

“No,” Harry replied, disinterested. “I just think your father might have planned one with the same level of competence he displayed when we were in school. Still, for the safety of everyone who will be involved, I’ll need to bring some insurance.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, can’t you guess Draco? You’re going to take me to visit your father. I’ll bring a some friends. It’ll be a party.”

It took a few days to arrange the assault on Malfoy’s hiding place. There were letters to write, friends to call in and protective spells to prepare. Harry found he was thinking about his own mother.

“You’re projecting,” Ginny had told him while he was working on his statement about Draco’s “cooperation.”

“Eh?” Harry had said in response.

“Narcissa is not Lily,” Ginny said. “Helping Draco isn’t a way to thank Lilly.”

“That’s not what’s going on,” Harry said.

“Go on,” Ginny said, crossing her arms. Harry was bemused by her posture. It was something her mother did when patiently listening to something she felt was probably dross, but was going to give a fair hearing anyway.

“If anyone understands a mother sacrificing to save her son’s life, it’s me. I’m not going to let that sacrifice go to waste. I may not think Draco is worth the trouble, but his mother does, or at least she did. When I finish this ,” Harry gestured at the parchment he was working on, “Draco will be saved yet again, as long as he holds up his end of the bargain.”

Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a small brass medallion. Numbers and letters flitted across the edge in a frantic code.

“I’m coming too,” Ginny said.

Harry looked at the medallion. It had been Hermione’s doing. Back in his school days, Tom Riddle had won an award at Hogwarts. A bronze plaque had hung in the trophy room for 50 years. After the battle of Hogwarts, Hermione had taken it down and re-cast it into these medallions. The Dumbledore's Army coins had been put away, and the new Order of the Phoenix had received the medallions. Harry looked up from the medallion to his wife. She was holding hers. Like Harry’s, the coded messages between the members of the Order of the Phoenix were flying across its edges.

“I know where you’re going,” she said. “You can’t stop me. Narcissa is my friend too.”

“I wouldn’t try to stop you,” Harry said. “I know what’s waiting for us. You’ve a cool head for combat.”

Days later Harry built a fire by the seaside and connected it temporarily to the Flu network. Most of the Order was coming as well as a good third of the Ministry’s auror’s. It was nearly 10:00 in the morning by the time they were all assembled. Harry stood on a rock and called for their attention.

“I don’t like dwelling in this,” Harry said. “It’s one of my more terrible memories.” He let that line sink in for a moment. “The last time I was here, it was mere hours before Albus Dumbledore died. We were hunting Horcruxes.” Harry noticed the Flu network connected campfire had sprung to life, and two new figures had emerged to joined them. “Narcissa,” Harry said, nodding slightly. “Draco.”

“What’s he doing here?” Neville Longbottom called from the ranks.

“What I should have done years ago,” Draco replied.

“He goes in front,” one of the Auror’s called.

“No,” Harry said, “I go in front. Now, before we open the secret door and step inside, I need to tell everyone what to expect.” Harry told them about the cave, how a young Tom Riddle had tormented fellow orphans in it in his youth, and how he and Dumbledore had visited it as a likely hiding place for a horcrux. He told them about the door that opened only if you sacrificed your own blood, the chain connected to the small boat for conveying a single man to the island in the center, of the horrible pool and its evil potion and finally, of the army of inferi in the lake. He felt a certain grim satisfaction in the ashen look on Draco’s face.

“And this,” Harry said, “Is where Lucius malfoy claims to have been hiding. This may be a trap. He may not be here.” Several people turned to Draco and eyed him suspiciously. “He may be dead, a victim added to the pool and his letters composed by a Death Eater, or a thing that was once Lucius Malfoy. Finally, it’s possible he actually is living in this cave. In a way, that’s the worst option, because he’s been isolated and alone for 18 years. He’ll be desperate and deranged. I’d prefer he be taken alive, but I’d rather he die than anyone here.”

Harry looked at Draco and added, “And that includes all of you. No exceptions.”

Harry outlined the plan. Four detachments would circle the lake. Three more would be stationed at intervals to act as guards. Finally, one detachment would stay outside, to force the door open again or summon reinforcements if necessary. He and Draco would ride the boat to the center of the lake. “Two former seekers should be light enough for it,” he quipped. He continued, “Brooms are right out. It’s too dark and the cave roof too irregular.” He’d just finished assigning people to detachments when Draco spoke up.

“We need human blood to open the door?” Draco asked.

“Yes,” Harry said.

Without a word Draco walked forward, rolling up his sleeve. When he reached Potter he presented his exposed arm and said, “Seems only fair to use mine. I’d prefer The Cleverest did the cutting. I remember her knife work from potions.” In the past, Draco had always used The Daily Prophet’s nickname for Hermione Weasley with his familiar mocking sneer. This time was downright respectful.

“Works for me,” Harry said. “Hermione? Will you do the honors?”

Hermione pulled her silver potions dagger from her robes and held it by the hilt, point facing up, and nodded. The look of determined satisfaction on her face was a bit unnerving.

“This way,” Harry said, leading Draco to the door’s location. In short order Hermione had bled Draco onto the rock. Once the door opened, George Weasley and Neville Longbottom jammed a wooden beam in the bottom of the doorway to prop it open.

Once inside, a few dim glows of light were visible from holes in the cave’s roof. It wasn’t enough to navigate by, but it did add a noxious, evil glow to what little was visible. The water sloshed ominously.

“Lumos,” Harry said, and his wand became the first spark in the darkness. Soon dozens of wands were lighting the cave. Each detachment became a halo of light moving through the gloom. 

The Order of the Phoenix medallions were the main form of communication between the groups, but regular showers of sparks shot into the air acted as reinforcement of the messages. So far all the sparks were green. Harry wanted to see yellow, indicating Lucius Malfoy had been found earlier than expected. He did not want to see red sparks, but it’s what he most expected.

Harry’s detachment reached the point where the chain connected to the enchanted boat was visible in the wand light. Harry summoned the boat and he and Draco got in. Their combined weight caused the boat to ride nerve-wrackingly low. Some water sloshed into the boat.

“What’s to stop my father killing you when we reach the island?”

“You’ll be in front.”

“What’s to stop me killing you and blaming him?”

“George’s group is outfitted with Weasley’s extensible ears. According to the 1890 geological survey, they should be able to hear everything happening on the island from their position in the Northwest corner of the cavern.”

They rode in silence a few more moments.

“Dumbledore was a great man,” Harry said, “but I’ve realized his lack of trust left him with plans that rested on too many delicate threads. I mean, what if there’s been a cave-in and George and his team can’t get into position? That’s why I always have backups. It takes trust, of course, but Riddel gave me lots of people who’d proven their mettle.”

“You’re still afraid to say the Dark Lord’s name, aren’t you?”

“‘Still?’” Harry said, with a derisive sneer worthy of a Malfoy. Since when was I EVER afraid of saying the name Voldemort? No, I call him Riddle because it’s the name he hated most. He was conceived because his mother used a love potion to rape his father. He hated his muggle father for fleeing the woman who’s used drugs to rape him. If there’s any fragment of Tom Marvolo Riddle still lingering in the world, he deserves to hear only the name he hated most.”

Draco remained silent until they'd almost reached the island. The stench of the water was overpowered by a different reek. Until now they’d smelled the sweet, saline tang of flesh rotting in saltwater. The new smell was more like a sewer, a rotting feces stench commingled with the unwashed human body. The small island was dimly illuminated by a glowing light from an altar, and a glowing wand held up by a shambling, dirty figure who was slowly approaching the boat.

“What’s to stop my father from killing me?” Draco whispered, panic in his voice.

“If he loves you as much as you loved him, you have nothing to fear, unless of course, he loved Tom Riddle even more.”

“Father!” Draco called out as the boat touched the shore.

They could see the elder Malfoy more clearly now. His hair, once a pale, nearly white, blond, was black with dirty with filth. A long beard was in equally foul condition. His robes may have once been fine, but now they were tatters. The mismatched nature suggested he’d been scrounging for scraps of cloth. The “thread” binding the pieces together glistened in the light.

“New robe?” Harry said casually, alighting from the boat.

The figure coughed, spit out a wad of phlegm and said in a creaky voice, “Finished sewing it the other day,” he said. “The tendons keep drying out and breaking.”

“Tendons?” Draco said, fear in his voice.

“Didn’t you notice the ground?” Harry said. “Those are human bones. Your father has been making very clever use of the inferi. I must ask Lucius, do you have to hunt them, or do they obey you in some manner?”

Lucius picked up a battered, tarnished goblet, dipped it into the altar’s basin and offered it to Harry and Draco. “Join me in a drink?” he asked.

“Is THAT what you’ve been drinking?” Draco said, his voice cracking.

“Let’s give Potter a sip,” he said. “Help me force that brat to drink deep of this pain.”

“Please come with us Father,” Draco said. “Anything is better than this place.”

“Leave?” Lucius bellowed. His voice echoed off the cavern walls. “I’m FREE here! And HERE my loyalty to the Dark Lord is FINALLY repaid! Here, my dark mark and the gift I left in the pool granted me my ARMY!” He raised his arms in the air, pouring the goblet’s contents over his face. As he did so the water frothed and bubbled as hundreds of inferi rose from the water.

“Protego Corpus!” Harry bellowed, and a yellow dome formed over him and Draco. The first infiri reached the dome, punched it, and was blown backwards back into the water. At that moment streams of light shot from the darkness across the lake, spells fired by the wizards and witches Harry had stationed around the lake. The spells were cutting down and detonating the infiri as if they had been packed with gunpowder. A few stray shots struck Harry’s protective dome. The punches from the infiri dimmed and weakened it, but the blasts from the darkness caused it to glow afresh.

“Paired spells,” Harry said casually. “Top secret Auror stuff. Protective dome designed explicitly to repel infiri. Destructive spells that destroy infir but reinforce the dome.”

“NO!” Screamed Lucius, “NO! You will NOT steal my revenge!” He ran to the edge of the dome, pointed his wand at Potter and called, “Avada kedavra!”

Harry had casually raised not his wand, but the Order of the Phoenix medallion. The spell’s path curved and instead of striking his head, it struck the medallion. When it did so the medallion shuddered, and then shot rays of green light into the dome, making it glow so brightly Lucius was barely visible. Two more bolts of green light shot through the dome, one aimed at Potter and another aimed at Draco. Both were absorbed by the medallion.

Draco was staring at Potter, his mouth open.

Harry held up the medallion. “Remember the Muggle who taught Defense Against the Dark Arts the first two or three years after the battle?”

“He made that?”

“Nah, he just taught Hermione how to bind something to the protective powers of the amulet of Yendor. Hermione was the one who figured out how to use the absorbed curse to reinforce protective spells. Bit melodramatic, but effective.”

The wet, sickening sounds of exploiting infiri died down. Soon all that could be heard were the sobs of Lucius Malfoy beyond the glowing dome. Harry was looking at his medallion, watching the coded message flit across it.

“What’s it say?” Draco asked.

“General status updates,” Harry said. “The frothing stage is about to start.”

“The what?”

Harry flicked the wand and dimmed the dome enough to see into the cavern beyond. Lucius was hardly discernible as human. He was prostrate on the ground, covered in the gore of detonated infiri. “Expelliarmus,“ Harry said. A jet or red light shot from his wand and the elder Malfoy’s wand soared into the air towards them. “Catch it,” Harry said to Draco. Without thinking Draco grabbed it with his bare hand. A look of disgust came over his features as he realized his father's wand was a gory and filthy as the rest of his father.

“Thanks,” Harry said. “My hands were full.”

Draco stared at the wand. “He used this wand to attack my mother,” he said. “It was brand new. He’d only owned it a few days.”

“We’ll need it for evidence,” Harry said, “So don't break it yet.”

No infiri were visible, but that hadn’t stopped the jets of light from the edges of the lake. Now they were directed into the water, which was getting increasingly agitated. 

“That’s the frothing?” Draco asked.

“Not even remotely,” Harry replied.

Soon the water was a writhing mass, swirling and foaming as if agitated by a giant blender. Then it was flying into the air. Harry flicked his wrist and extended the protective dome to include Lucius. He then cast bubble head charms over himself, Draco and Lucius just as the waters covered them. A few stray infiri had been dragged from the depths by the magic. Lucius cried while draco and Harry watched, transfixed and disgusted, as the last infiri were dashed to bits against each other and the protective dome. The waters receded, leaving the three of them soaking in filth and brine.

“Why?” Draco asked, wringing out his soaked robes, “Didn’t you tell me this was the plan?”

“Well, it was going to be Ron with me until you volunteered.”

“You bastard.”

“Of all the things you can call me, that may be the least accurate.”

Harry dropped the protective dome and walked over to the altar. “The potion kept your father's offering inside,” Harry said. “Want to see what he used to buy an army of infiri from the late Tom Marvolo Riddle?”

Draco approached the altar.

“I’m pretty sure one of those is his wedding ring,” Harry said. “What’s the other?”

Draco tried to reach into the altar’s basin to retrieve it, but his hand was forced back by the altar’s magic. “I recognize it,” he said. “It’s a locket I gave him when I started at Hogwarts. It has two pictures. One of me and one of my Mother.”

“It’s closed,“ Harry said.

Draco turned and yelled at his father. “Why did you close it? You could have left it open and seen us, seen me, when you looked in!”

Lucius said nothing.

“Time to go,” Harry said. Ropes spiraled out of his wand and bound the elder Malfoy. Draco emptied the water from the enchanted boat and a quick “levicorpus” later he and Harry were towing Lucius back to shore.

It was another month before the Ministry has scoured the cavern enough to be satisfied the last infiri had been found. The public story was that a cold case auror division had deduced the fugitive's location, using clues unavailable when Lucius had first disappeared. Draco's nearly two decades of deception were kept out of the press. Rita Skeeter wrote the explosive book detailing, and as was her style, embellishing, the fictional detective work. Harry was never quite sure if he was impressed or disturbed by the apparent ease with which Hermione had lead Skeeter’s “investigation” to the conclusions she wanted. He reflected that it was a good thing she was on his side, an observation that had become very frequent the last few years.


End file.
